


Where The Love Light Gleams

by clarkes_murphy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, F/F, and thank you to jaz on twitter for the story idea, christmas clexa!, clexa au, hope y'all enjoy this one, modern clexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12916302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkes_murphy/pseuds/clarkes_murphy
Summary: Clarke returns to her quiet hometown of Polis for Christmas break. She's expecting parties and laughter and fun - but running into her ex-girlfriend is not part of the plan. This turn of events leads to an explosive Christmas party, where unresolved feelings come to the surface and emotions reach boiling point.(Dedicated to Jaz - thanks for the story inspiration!)





	Where The Love Light Gleams

“A whole year away and this place hasn’t changed at all,” Clarke murmurs to herself, tugging her suitcase behind her as she steps off the train and onto the deserted platform.

The sleepy town of Polis stretches out ahead of her, snow blanketing the slanting roofs and postcard-perfect front gardens. A puff of white air snakes out from between her lips as she lets out a sigh, eyes lingering on the houses for a second more before clomping down the slope that leads from the train station to the town centre.

She can’t help but smile as she spots her old haunts – the ice cream parlour where she’d study with Raven; the tiny bookstore she’d escape to when she needed time alone; the coffee shop where she had her first date with—no.

She can’t let herself go back there.

She won’t.

Not after all this time.

Dusk settles around her and the streetlamps flicker on, casting a soft orange glow onto the snowy ground. Her footsteps crunch as she trudges on through the snow, damp heat clinging to her skin beneath layers of clothes. Ten minutes later and she’s dragging her suitcase up the path of an all-too-familiar house. The mahogany front door, the large inviting windows, the duck-egg-blue shutters – still adorned with the sunflowers she painted when she was 10. A rushed knock on the door. And then…

“Clarke, honey!”

Warm arms wrap around her, and she sinks into her mother’s embrace.

“Hey, mom.”

Abby Griffin steps back, regarding her daughter with a smile. “Don’t you dare stay away for so long ever again. I missed you!”

Clarke laughs as she drags her case through the open door and into the hallway. “I know, I know.” Kicking off her boots, she feels comfort flood her veins. This house is warm; safe. Filled with happy memories and love.

“I bet you’re hungry!” Abby calls from the kitchen, taking out a bottle of red wine from the fridge before peering into the oven.

“Starving, actually.”

“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Now I remember why I like coming home so much,” Clarke grins, planting a kiss on her mother’s cheek before retrieving two wine glasses from the cupboard above the sink. “What’re we having?”

“Roast chicken, potatoes, cauliflower cheese, roasted vegetables. The works.”

“Oh my god,” Clarke groans, staring through the oven door at the bubbling cheese atop the cauliflower. “You are a culinary goddess.”

“And you are a typical hungry student who’d probably say the same thing about a day-old slice of pizza,” Abby chuckles.

“That’s true.”

“I thought as much.”

“But I really have missed your cooking, mom. And you, of course.”

“Bet you missed the cooking more, though.” Another voice floats over from the kitchen doorway.

Clarke whips around, face breaking into a huge smile. “RAVEN!” She dashes across the room, throwing her arms around her best friend.

“Easy, tiger,” Raven laughs. “I’m already rocking a leg brace, here. I don’t need a neck brace to match.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Clarke pulls back, holding Raven at arm’s length with a smile. “What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you’d be back in town.”

“That was the plan. To surprise you,” Abby says, pulling various dishes out of the oven.

“We planned it a couple of months ago,” Raven adds.

“Best surprise ever, guys.”

“Duh,” Raven winks.

They move over to the large dining table, setting out plates and cutlery.

“Where’s Luna tonight?” Clarke asks Raven.

“Working. She’ll be around for Christmas, though! You’ll see her at some point.”

“Good. I’ve missed you all.”

“Don’t get sappy, Griffin. We haven’t even opened the wine yet.”

“Shut up.”

“Speaking of wine – I’m having a Christmas party next week, and you have to come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Clarke beams.

“The whole gang will be there, too.”

They take their seats at the table, Clarke passing the bowl of sweet potatoes to her mother.

“The whole gang? Even—”

“Well, almost the whole gang,” Raven mumbles around a mouthful of chicken. “Sorry.”

Clarke shakes her head. “S’okay. I was just—has anyone heard from her?”

“Not since… not for a while, no.”

“Hm.”

Silence sits at the table with them for a minute or so.

Abby clears her throat. “Clarke, honey. How’s university?”

This injects a bubble of air into the room and things relax back into a normal state – Clarke chattering away, Raven chiming in, Abby spooning more food onto their plates until they’re rosy-cheeked and doe-eyed.

“Fuck. I mean, wow. Amazing food, Abby. Thank you,” Raven smiles, slouching back in her chair.

Abby replies with a smile of her own. “Now for the fun part. Cleaning up.”

“We’ll help.” Clarke stands, piling empty plates on top of each other.

But Abby waves her away. “No, no. It’s your first night back, go and relax. Catch up with Raven. I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, darling. Go. I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Thanks, mom,” Clarke murmurs, wrapping Abby in a quick hug before following Raven up to her old bedroom.

It’s practically the same as it was before she left – grey-checked duvet, deep blue rug, fairy lights strung across the bedframe. There’s a noticeable space on top of the dresser – dust outlines the absence of the picture frame that once sat there. But Clarke pushes it out of her mind, slumping down onto the bed with a content sigh. Raven sits beside her, leaning her head on Clarke’s shoulder.

“Missed you, Griff.”

“I missed you too.”

“Can you believe it’s been a year since we left?”

“Feels like it only happened yesterday.”

“Polis really hasn’t changed much, huh.”

Clarke shakes her head. “No, it hasn’t.”

A frown creases Raven’s forehead. “So. Do you want to talk about… y’know…”

Clarke’s heart squeezes painfully.

“It’s been a while, Clarke. We can talk about her if you want—”

“It’s okay. I’m not—let’s just enjoy this. No sad talk.”

“Not until we’ve had more wine, eh?” Raven smiles gently.

“Exactly.” Clarke laughs quietly.

They sink into comfortable conversation, filling each other in on things that hadn’t been shared in their text conversations during their time away. A few hours later and the darkness is pressing up against the windows. Raven is half-asleep, curled up against Clarke like a kitten. And Clarke feels herself succumbing to her own exhaustion, pulling the duvet over them both before sinking back onto her pillow. Raven’s quiet breaths soothe her.

A distant memory flickers across her eyelids – different breaths, longer, more intimate.

Fingers pressed to warm skin.

Eyes greener than a forest in spring.

The space where the photograph used to sit.

Nights of whispers and kisses shared.

Angry words, harsh and brittle.

Hot tears staining her pillow.

Then sleep takes over, and Clarke gladly sinks into it.

* * *

 

A week passes, and Clarke immerses herself back into the Polis way of life. Often, she meets Raven at the pizzeria along the main parade of shops; sometimes they browse the charity shop next door, or head to the tiny bar at the end of the street for beers and darts. They avoid the coffee shop – Raven simply knows not to go there, and Clarke is eternally grateful for it. She also spends time with Abby, watching cheesy Christmas movies and drinking a little too much mulled wine.

(“It’s the holidays, we’re allowed!”)

(“I love that logic.”)

Then it’s the weekend, and the day of Raven’s Christmas party. Clarke arrives at the house early, to help set up and hang decorations. Luna is there, much to Clarke’s delight, and they spend the time catching up while sticking snowflakes to window panes and stringing multicoloured banners from wall-to-wall.

“Babe?” Raven calls from the kitchen, a few hours before the party is about to start. “I can’t find the plastic cups!”

“I’ll be right back,” Luna smiles.

Clarke nods, continuing to pour bags of candy into bowls. She places them in the centre of the table, which has been pushed back against the wall to create a space in the middle of the room amongst the couches. Against her better judgment, she lets her mind wander back to her last Christmas in Polis. It had only been a few months, then. A few months of pain and regret and heartache. She remembers sobbing into Raven’s arms. Chugging far too much whiskey and retching into the toilet bowl. Nights of longing and pain, pain that stretched across her veins and stabbed at her bones. It had felt like she would snap at any moment. Then it began to lessen, slightly. The shards dulled. Teeth no longer bit at her skin. It still hurt – but less. A little less.

“Clarke? You okay?” Luna is back by her side, concern in her soft-brown eyes.

“Yep. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Clarke nods, forcing a smile onto her face. “Yeah.”

Luna places a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “We’re here for you. Don’t forget that.”

“I know. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“Come on, slackers!” Raven calls, dragging a beer keg into the living room. “People are gonna be here soon. Get into that Christmas spirit!”

Luna chuckles, rolling her eyes at Clarke. “My girlfriend, the happy Christmas elf.”

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to.”

“I’m not an elf,” Raven grumbles, fiddling with the speakers beside the television.

“Sure, babe. Whatever you say,” Luna grins, capturing Raven’s lips in a surprise kiss.

Clarke catches the flare of pink across Raven’s cheeks. Her heart twists a little as she remembers being kissed like that by— _No._

_Push it away._

_Don’t go there._

They resume setting up, and an hour later, the house is bathed in festive energy. Raven has put on tight black jeans and a simple red vest, while Luna is wearing her favourite black skirt with a flowery white blouse.

“You two look beautiful,” Clarke smiles.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Griff,” Raven grins.

Clarke glances down at her plaid button-down shirt and skinny jeans. “Thanks, Ray.”

Luna presses Play on her phone and Christmas music begins trickling from the speakers. Raven pours them a glass of wine each. They toast, Christmas lights flickering in their wide eyes. Then the first guests arrive and the party gets underway. And Clarke can already feel the alcohol working its magic – one croissant at 11am isn’t the best way to line your stomach, but she just shrugs and knocks back another shot of vodka.

The first few hours of the party are filled with hugs and lots of chatter. She sees so many old friends – Octavia, Harper, Echo and Anya. And Bellamy, who arrives with a sheepish Murphy trailing behind him, looking smitten as he takes Bellamy’s hand in his.

“Wait. Are you two—”

“Yep.”

“Finally, oh my god!”

“Told you she’d be insufferable.”

“Shut up and give me a damn hug, Bell.”

Christmas songs blare out across the room and Clarke lets the warmth of it all fill her up, happiness thrumming through her body. Retreating to the kitchen for more alcohol, she notices a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the kitchen doorframe. She shakes her head, chuckling to herself. “Typical Raven.” Cradling her refreshed drink against her chest, she turns back to the party—and rams into another body, drink sloshing out of the cup. Hands now wet and sticky, she jolts back.

“I am _so_ sorry, fuck. Here, let me get you a napki—shit. Hi.”

Blue eyes lock with green. Forest green. In the spring. The name ghosts across her lips.

_Lexa._

She’s here. Her hair is longer. And she has a new tattoo that wasn’t there before. But it’s her. She’s here. Clarke is struggling to breathe, now.

And Lexa just stares. Clarke's soft blonde hair, those eyes, those pouty lips – she can’t look away. It’s been so long. And yet, it feels like no time has passed at all.

Wordless space stretches between them. Until:

“Oh, Christ.” Raven ambles over, smiling guiltily. “Hey, Lexa.”

The taller girl replies with a tight smile. Clarke glares at Raven, taking her by the arm.

“Excuse us for a moment,” she mumbles.

Lexa nods, once.

Clarke drags Raven into the hallway. “What the fuck, Raven?”

Raven holds her hands up in surrender. “I didn’t know she was going to be here, I swear. Luna must have invited her.”

Clarke rubs at her temple. “Fuck. Okay, it’s fine. It’ll be fine. Right?”

“If you say so.”

“It’s just a party. It’s not—we don’t have to—it’s just a party.”

Raven pats Clarke on the arm. “Chill, Griff. You’re right. It’ll be fine. Just go back out there and try to have a good time.”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Besides, you’re the one who broke up with _her_. She’s probably feeling way more awkward than you are right now.”

Clarke shoots Raven a murderous look.

“Okay, yeah, not helping. Sorry.”

They re-join the party a minute later. Clarke chases her third vodka shot with a glass of eggnog. She savours the fuzzy warmth in her stomach, imagining its soft tendrils weaving their way through her ribs and around her heart. Protection. Laughter seeps into her ears; she turns to see Bellamy beckoning her over to the couches. She sits between him and Murphy, grinning at her friends. Harper begins singing along to the music – Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ is blasting from the speakers – and they all join in, Clarke shimmying with Murphy as he plays enthusiastic air drums. More drinks are poured; each one goes down easier than the last. Clarke is loose-lipped and fuzzy-tongued. She pulls Echo up for a dance. The main lights are off now and shadows flicker across their faces. A sea of smiles. Cup presses against lips. Empty?

Clarke frowns, tipping her cup upside-down. “Not good. Need more.” She sways in the direction of the kitchen. Bellamy leaps up to help her, but she shoos him away. “M’fine. Just getting a drink. Back soon!”

Murphy pulls Bellamy in for a kiss, and Clarke continues her journey to the kitchen. She finds a crate of beers, and a second jug of eggnog. What she doesn’t expect to find is Lexa, nestled into the corner, a bottle of rum clutched in her hands.

Clarke savours the way the alcohol soothes her – she isn’t nervous like before.

“Hey, Lex.” She greedily swallows a mouthful of eggnog.

Lexa stares up at her. “Hi.” Saucer-eyes. They close as she takes a drink of rum. “Um.” She glances at the floor beside her. “Wanna sit?”

Clarke nods. She crosses her legs as she sits. Her knee touches Lexa’s.

“Funny,” Lexa mumbles.

Clarke rests her chin on the rim of the eggnog jug. “What is?”

“Us. Being here. Like old times.”

Heart pangs. Not enough alcohol. No protection.

“Lexa.”

“Have you seen the coffee shop? They’ve renovated it. It’s all hipster now. I hate it.”

Clarke uses her thumb to trace the pattern on the side of the jug. “We used to love that place.”

“Mhmm.”

Another drink. Loud gulps.

“So… how’ve you been?”

Lexa lets out a mirthless laugh. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Really? We’re really gonna sit here and do bullshit small talk? No, thank you.”

“Lexa, what—”

“How the fuck do you think I’ve been, Clarke?” Her eyes are suddenly alight with a fire that singes Clarke’s soul. “You fucked me over, and left me to deal while you went off to university.”

“How—I did not _fuck you over,_ Lexa. I was trying to do what was best. For us. For you!”

Lexa sucks on booze-soaked teeth. “Hm.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t make _me_ talk about this and then clam up. That’s not fucking fair—”

“You wanna talk about fair?” Lexa spins to face Clarke, teeth bared. “Is _fair_ letting me fall in love with you, letting me give myself to you in every fucking way, and then dumping me? You left me, Clarke. I wasn’t enough, or you needed something more, or whatever. You left me.” She chokes on a quiet sob. “Don’t you dare sit there and call _me_ unfair. I wasn’t the one who gave up on us. You were.”

Clarke stumbles to her feet, anger clouding her vision. “You think I just gave up? Like it was that easy? Jesus, Lexa.”

“Well, what else was I supposed to think? You disappeared on me. I haven’t heard anything from you for over a year. I thought you were living this amazing life without me—”

“How the _fuck_ could I live any sort of life without you, Lexa?!”

Lexa’s heart stutters. It feels like all the air has been sucked away from her. “What?”

“My life has been fucking awful since I left you.” Clarke’s voice is hard and soft all at once. “It was the right thing to do. I mean, I _thought_ I was doing the right thing. But… fuck, Lex.” Her body goes slack against the kitchen counter. “It hurt. Being away from you, not being able to hear your voice or see your face or hold you at night…”

Lexa stands too. She holds out the bottle of rum. Clarke takes it readily, choking down a few mouthfuls before handing it back.

“I miss you, Lexa.” Her voice is tiny. Scared.

“That’s not fair.” Lexa’s eyes are heavy with tears. “You can’t just—”

Clarke steps closer to Lexa, closing the gap between them.

“You can’t just come in here and—”

Clarke’s nose brushes against Lexa’s. Their lips are close. So close…

Then Lexa draws back, shoving the rum into Clarke’s arms before running out of the kitchen. Clarke stands there for a moment, staring at the dark brown liquid sloshing around the bottle.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.”

“Clarke?” It’s Raven, tipsy. “You okay?”

Tears spill down Clarke’s cheeks. Raven rushes over, catching Clarke before she slides down to the floor.

“Hey, hey. I’ve got you.”

“I fucked up, Ray. I fucked it all up and Lexa hates me and it’s all my fault.”

Raven rocks Clarke gently, dabbing at her tears with a tea towel. “Well, this is new. Usually Murphy is the drunk gay mess at parties, not you.”

A tiny laugh bubbles up in Clarke's throat. “Thought I’d mix things up a bit.”

“Never a dull moment with you, Griff.”

She chokes on a sob. “It hurts, Ray. So much hurts.”

Raven sits Clarke upright, looking her in the eyes. “So what’re you gonna do about it?”

“There’s nothing to _do,_ Raven—”

“Wrong. Something needs to be done.”

Clarke frowns. “But—”

“Clearly you still love her.”

Clarke’s silence speaks volumes.

“And she still loves you.”

“How do you know?”

“Do you know how many nights I listened to her cry to Luna on the phone, wondering where she went wrong? Why she wasn’t good enough for you?” Raven's voice takes on a stern edge. “You know I love you, Clarke. But you broke that poor girl. And you need to figure out what you want now. Don’t let her back in if you’re just going to push her away again later.”

Clarke shakes her head violently. “No. I won’t—I want her, Ray. I’ve tried to deny it for the past year, but fuck. I can’t. She makes me feel—nothing compares to her. Nothing.”

“And you’re sure? Even with the distance? And school?”

“Fuck the distance. Fuck everything else. I need her.”

Raven can’t stop herself from breaking into a grin. “Thank fuck.”

Clarke shoots her a look of confusion.

“We’ve all kind of been hoping that you two would get back together. Things aren’t the same without both of you here.” Raven cringes at her own sappy words. “Besides, you two are sort-of adorable together.”

“You softie.”

“Not as adorable as Luna and I, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Clarke chuckles.

Raven takes a swig of rum. “Well?”

“Hm?”

“What are you waiting for? Go get your girl!”

“Shit. Okay, yeah. Yeah? Yes!” Clarke pushes herself up, using the counter to steady herself. “I’m gonna do it.”

“Hell yeah.”

Clarke’s halfway across the room before Raven calls her name once more. “Here.” She’s holding out the mistletoe sprig. “Might help, or whatever.”

Clarke's smile is wobbly as she takes the tiny branch. “Thanks, Ray.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just go already, jeez!”

A sloppy salute from Clarke and then she’s making her way to the living room. She finds out from Anya that Lexa is outside on the back porch. Takes a deep breath before opening the door and walking outside. She finds Lexa leaning against the wooden railing, knees pulled up to her chest. Clarke sits across from her, placing the mistletoe on the floor between them. Lexa's eyes dart from the sprig to Clarke’s face, confusion painted on her features.

“Clarke?”

“I’m really sorry.”

Lexa shuffles in place, wrapping her arms around herself. “For what?”

“For hurting you. For making you think I didn’t care. For… this.” She gestures to Lexa, curled into herself, cheeks tear-stained. “I didn’t want this. Any of it.”

A sigh presses against Lexa’s lips. “Then why did you do it?”

“I told you. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“You left me, Clarke.”

“I know, but—”

“You just left.”

“I was doing what was best for you.”

“What you _thought_ was best for me.”

Clarke swallows heavily, heart sputtering. Her hands shake. “I didn’t want to hold you back.”

Lexa scoffs. “How would that even be possible?”

“I just thought—”

“How could you possibly hold me back, when all you ever did during our relationship was push me forward and help me be a better person in every conceivable way?”

“Only you could figure out how to use the word “conceivable” during something like this,” Clarke smiles. “But, Lexa… I fucked up. Okay? I fucked up, and I never should have let you go.”

The words Lexa had prepared to say melt away on her tongue. Clarke is gazing at her now. Blue eyes beseeching. Honest.

“I… what are you saying?”

Clarke scoots forward on her knees. “You know what I’m saying.”

Lexa shakes her head. “You’re just drunk.”

“No.”

“You don’t mean this.”

“I do. Fuck, Lexa. I need you. I don’t want to be without you again.”

Lexa ducks her head. “What about when we both leave again for school?”

“We’ll make it work.”

“What if this is the wrong decision for you—”

“It’s not. Trust me.” Clarke takes Lexa's face in her hands. Their eyes meet.

“Clarke—”

“Being without you… without your smile, your laugh, your… kiss.” Clarke's eyes linger on Lexa's lips. “It was the worst thing to ever happen to me.”

“It wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for me, either,” Lexa quips.

The hint of a smile tugs at Clarke's mouth. “There’s my girl.”

“You have to mean it, Clarke,” Lexa says softly.

“I do.”

“You can’t get my hopes up and then destroy me all over again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Lexa hesitates before shuffling forwards. There’s barely any space between them now. Lexa’s breath brushes across Clarke’s lips.

“Baby,” Clarke whispers.

The word turns Lexa’s heart to mush. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you. I need you.” Clarke rests her forehead on Lexa’s. “I really fucking love you, Lex.”

This unlocks something within Lexa and she surges forward, pulling Clarke in for a fierce hug. They’re both trembling. Clarke’s face is pressed into Lexa’s shoulder. She’s whispering _I love you I love you I love you._

“I love you too, Clarke.”

Clarke's breath is shaky as she pulls back. “Does that mean—Lexa, will you be my girlfriend? Again?”

“Yes,” she grins.

“And I promise,” Clarke takes Lexa’s hands in her own, “I absolutely promise that I will never hurt you again.”

“I believe you.”

“I love you so much, Lexa. I need you to know that.”

“Babe, it’s okay. I know—”

“I’m so lucky to have you in my life, and I’m never going to let you go again, and—”

Lexa reaches over to grab the mistletoe, holding the leaves against Clarke’s mouth. “Clarke. Stop.”

Their eyes lock. Lexa holds her breath.

“Lexa…”

“Just shut up and kiss me already.”

The mistletoe is discarded as Clarke presses her lips against Lexa’s. The kiss is gentle and soft and Lexa feels tears build up behind her eyes as she finds that feeling, the feeling she’s been missing for the past year. The feeling of safety and love and belonging. Clarke is her safe place. Her home. She’s finally home.

Clarke pulls back, thumb stroking along Lexa’s jawline. “ _God_.”

“I know.”

Clarke wraps an arm around Lexa, pulling her to her chest. “I love you, Lex.”

“I love you too.”

“So… where’s my Christmas present?”

“Don’t push it, Griffin.”

“Right. Sorry, babe,” Clarke smiles, kissing Lexa’s forehead.

The winter moon bathes them in pale silver. Muffled party sounds escape through the walls of the house. Lexa is back in Clarke’s arms. Clarke places a kiss on Lexa’s cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Lexa.”

“Merry Christmas, Clarke.”


End file.
